


A Feline Feeling

by JantoJones



Series: UNCLE Holidays [6]
Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E. (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-29
Updated: 2017-10-29
Packaged: 2019-01-26 02:35:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12546900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JantoJones/pseuds/JantoJones
Summary: A smalltown guesthouse is not as quaint as it appears.





	A Feline Feeling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mrua7](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrua7/gifts).



> A Hallowe'en tale for Mrua7.

It had already gone 8pm when Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin pulled up outside of the only guesthouse in the small town of Meadow Ridge. They were heading back to New York following a successful mission and, because it had been three intensive days, Mr Waverly had told them not to hurry back. As both agents were quite weary, and Illya was once again suffering the aftermath of a Thrush interrogation, it was agreed they would take a room in the first establishment they passed. The Old Man had, of course, insisted on only the one room, claiming that the accounting department was grumbling again.

The Meadow Ridge Guesthouse was a quaint little place, which didn’t quite fit with the rest of the town. It seemed to be a little older, and slightly shabbier. To Napoleon and Illya’s relief however, there was a shingle hanging on the picket fence with the word ‘Vacancies’ written on it. The two men strode up to the door and Napoleon knocked. It didn’t seem like the kind of place you just walked into. 

Two or three minutes later the door was opened by a pretty young woman who had long, dark hair, and green eyes. As with the house, there was something about her which didn’t quite seem right. Her clothing reminded Napoleon of the style his mother would often wear during the war.

“Good evening, Ma’am,” he greeted her, with his million watt smile. “Do you have a twin room available?”

Medea Venefica couldn’t prevent herself from returning the smile of handsome man. She could tell, just from looking, that he was a man of sophistication and charm. However, it was the skinny blond beside him who interested her more. His entire demeanour was of a cat ready to pounce; which was just perfect for her little hobby.

“Of course, gentlemen,” she replied, gesturing for them to enter. “Unfortunately, you have missed dinner.”

“That’s fine,” Napoleon told her. “I noticed a diner as we came into town.”

After registering, Miss Venefica told the pair they could find their room at the top of the staircase, which was at the opposite end of the communal area. As they negotiated their way past an antique sofa, they were startled when a strange looking white cat jumped up onto the back of it. The creature had a cute little face with large, hypnotic eyes; although the ears of the animal were tiny, and barely visible. It was looking at the agents with an odd expression, as though it was trying to draw them in.

True to his innate love of cats, Illya reached out a hand to give the creature a little tickle. With a sharp hiss, the animal swiped a claw at him. Illya managed to snatch his hand back but not quite in time to prevent a scratching.

“Primo is a little choosy about who he allows near him,” Miss Venefica stated, as she picked it up and stroked its head.

The animal canted its head to one side and seemed to stare at Illya. The Russian found himself mirroring the move and felt a sudden urge to start purring. He shook his head to dispel the strange thought, but he couldn’t pull his gaze away from the animal.

“Let’s dump our luggage and go out for dinner,” Napoleon suggested, but received no response. “Illya?”

It finally filtered through to Illya’s subconscious that someone was talking to him.

“Sorry,” he replied. “I was miles away. What did you say?”

“Dinner?” Napoleon repeated.

“Definitely. I’m starving.”

“You do surprise me.”

********************************

Napoleon smiled at the Hallowe’en costumes being worn by the group of giggling children skipping along the other side of the street as he and Illya walked to the diner. There were seven in all, made up of two vampires, one werewolf, three witches, and a mummy. They were each carrying a little plastic pumpkin shaped buckets, which were already half filled with candy. A little way behind them, and clearly bored, were their parents.

“It’s a shame we couldn’t get back to headquarters for the party tonight,” Napoleon commented. “I heard that Monica Brown was going as a mummy, with few bandages.”

He was so engrossed in the mental image of Monica and her scant wrappings that he failed to notice Illya’s lack of response. Normally, such a commented would have elicited an eye roll, or at least, an exasperated sigh. Instead, Illya was concentrating on not turning to look at the tail he could feel growing but was certain couldn’t possibly be there.

The diner was half empty when they entered and Napoleon sat down at the first booth he came to.

“Are you joining me?” he queried, when his partner didn’t also sit down.

“I am going to the bathroom,” Illya mumbled. “Order for me, please.”

Napoleon frowned as the Russian walked away. Something definitely wasn’t right with him.

In the bathroom, Illya glared at himself in the mirror. Despite being able to see his face looking the same as it always did, he was convinced he could feel something sprouting from both sides of his upper lip. If he didn’t know better, he could have believed he was developing feline whiskers.

He returned to Napoleon where he was told that half the menu had been ordered for him. Of course, this was only a jest on the American’s part, but there was still a fair amount of food delivered to their booth.

Napoleon finished his dinner long before Illya was even a third of the way through his own. This, in itself, was enough to ring alarm bells.

“Is there something wrong with yours?” Solo asked, with a note of worry. “You’ve barely touched it.”

Where food was concerned, Napoleon often likened his partner to an over-eager puppy who ate its own food, then looked on in the hope of leftovers from whoever he was with.

“I was ravenous earlier,” Illya replied, shrugging one shoulder. “But now I seem to have lost my appetite.”

“You took quite a beating earlier today. Maybe we should get you to a doctor.”

“I am fine,” Illya replied with his stock answer to the mention of doctors.” I think I will just go back to the guesthouse and go to bed.”

Napoleon glanced at his watch. It was only 10:15pm but, as he was also tired, he decided he would head to bed also. If nothing else, it would mean they would get a good night’s sleep before heading back to New York in the morning.

…………………………………………………….

It was still dark when Illya woke, and it took him a few seconds to remember where he was. His head felt as though it was full of cotton and he momentarily thought he was under the influence of another Thrush drug. Climbing out of bed, Illya staggered unsteadily to the bathroom. For some reason his brain was under the impression that he had four feet and couldn’t seem to work out how to operate just two. Blearily looking into the mirror, Illya frowned at the man looking back. The pupils of his eyes had changed shape and had become decidedly cat like. Also, the whiskers he could feel earlier were now visible.

“Ya kot _(I am a cat)_ ,” he whispered to himself.

“Here kitty.”

Illya span round at the sound of the female voice, instinctively reaching for the gun he didn’t have, only to find he was still alone in the bathroom. He’d expected to see the white cat from earlier, as well as the owner of the voice, but there was only him.

“Here kitty.”

He realised, somewhat bewilderingly, that the voice was not only inside his head, but that it sounded like Miss Venefica. As soon as she came to his mind Illya had an overwhelming urge to seek her out. Almost unconsciously, he made his way downstairs and through the kitchen. It didn’t occur to him that he knew where he was going, even though he’d had no prior knowledge of the layout of the house. In the back corner of the kitchen there was a non-descript door, which Illya pushed went through and descended the staircase it concealed. 

Miss Venefica was waiting for him, apparently aware that he was on his way. She was surrounded by about twenty cats. They all had pale fur and blue eyes.

“Hello there, my little kitty,” she greeted him sweetly. “Would you like a treat?”

Illya could hear his own subconscious shouting at him to turn and run, but he could do nothing to prevent himself from dropping to his hands and knees and crawling over to the woman. His embarrassment was further raised as she held a cat treat out to him and he used his mouth to take it from her palm.

“I think I shall call you Pulchellus,” Miss Venefica told him, as she stroked his head. “It means pretty.”

Illya tried to reply to the humiliating name but the only sound which came out was an annoyed mewling. He looked at her questioningly. 

“Don’t fret, dear,” she soothed. “You’re going to love it here. All my other kitties were once scared like you, but they are happy now. Don’t worry, Pulchellus. Your body will change, but you will still remember who you were.”

Inside his head, Illya was screaming with anger. He had survived so much in his life and he absolutely refused to allow this to happen. As his emotions rose, Illya felt something strange happening to his hands. He held them up in front of his face and watched, in horror, has his fingernails grew long and sharp. His transformation could not to continue. He would stop it if it was the last thing he did. 

“Don’t fight it, Pulchellus,” Miss Venefica cooed. “It will be easier for you if you just go with it.”

The frustration exploded within Illya and he lashed out at the evil woman, with his now fully formed claws. She shoved him away as blood began to appear from the slashes on her leg. While she was distracted, Illya took his chance and made a run for the door.

“GET BACK HERE!” Miss Venefica yelled. 

Illya ignored her but, the farther away he got from her, the weaker he felt. Gathering a much resolve as he could, he pushed on. Illya almost made it out of the house before his strength left him. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.

*******************************************************************************

“Tovarisch, wake up.”

At the sound of his partner’s voice, Illya forced his eyes open and was surprised to find they were in the car.

“Where are we?” he asked. 

“Some backwater town,” Napoleon told him. “But it has somewhere for us to stay, so it’s good enough for me.”

Illya looked over to the building they were parked in front of. It was a quaint little place which had a sign outside declaring it to be the Meadow Ridge Guesthouse. Sitting in one of the downstairs windows was a small, strange looking cat. As he was looking, the door opened and a woman in her fifties stepped out. Her clothing was old fashioned, and her hair was dark with silver streaks. However, it was her green eyes which sparked the recognition in Illya. He tore himself away and frantically told Napoleon to keep driving.

“Please go on to the next town,” he requested.

“What’s wrong?” Solo asked, noting the uncharacteristic edge of fear in Kuryakin’s voice.

“I cannot explain,” the other man told him. “Please just trust me on this.”

Napoleon shrugged, and pulled away from the guesthouse. Although he’d been given no explanation, he would have been long dead had he hadn’t listened to his partner’s instincts in the past.

“I think there’s another town about fifteen miles after this one.”

Illya relaxed. He had no idea what was happening, but tried to put it down to the beatings he’d been subject to that morning. The fact he recognised the woman older woman as the younger one from his vision was something he was trying not to think about.

On the porch of the guesthouse, the white cat, which had been in the window, came out and jumped up into the woman’s arms.

“Not this time, Primo,” she murmured, as she tickled him. “I’m sure I’ll have another brother for you soon.”


End file.
